The Storytellers' Gift
by madisoncumberbatch
Summary: When a girl accidentally creates a monster using her imagination alone, the Doctor must not only find a way to destroy it, but also to deal with the girl and her friend, who want to join him on his perilous adventures.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night. Wow, that's cliché. Let's try again.

It was a night that would live in the memory of two teenage girls for decades to come. The wind screamed across the siding of the small, suburban house, threatening to rip the entire structure off the ground and hurl it into oblivion. Thunder echoed in the ears of every living creature for miles around, making them run for cover. And the lightning that pierced the sky was seared into the retinas of the girls long after it had disappeared.

I had a dreadfully boring life that I did my best to make more interesting. I turned even the most dull, commonplace things - like a thunderstorm, for example - into spectacular, once-in-a-lifetime events. Trust me, it wasn't easy to turn going into the grocery store into an unforgettable journey when you'd gone once a week for fifteen years.

Luckily, I had Oceana to help me. She'd been my best friend for almost six years. We both shared a love of adventure and a hate for our tedious daily routine.

On this particular "dark and stormy night," she was coming over for a sleepover. As I peered out the window, waiting for the familiar sight of her mom's red minivan, I drew doodles in the misty glass, thankful to be indoors.

"Izabella!" my dad called from the kitchen. I unwillingly pulled myself away from the glass and walked into the next room. He stood there, furious, next to the counter over-flowing with dirty dishes.

"Sup?" I said, purposely looking anywhere but the counter.

"Didn't I tell you to do these dishes before Oceana came over?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"Well, _maybe_ I'll have to call Oceana's mother and tell her not to bother dropping her daughter off tonight." I could tell by the way his eyebrows knit together that he wasn't giving in.

"Fine." I hunched my shoulders and pushed past him to the dishwasher. Plate, spoon, bowl, plate, cup. I had loaded the dishwasher so many times, that I was almost finished with the chore by the time I came up with a story to make it more exciting.

A nuclear bomb was coming, and the dishwasher was the only safe place. Each dish was a person, desperate to get out of harm's way.

"Please," screamed a cup, "take care of my babies first." She passed me a horde of silverware, which I dutifully slid into a rack.

"Is there room for me?" a huge pot asked, bumping a stack of plates out of his way.

"No, take us first!" clamored the mugs.

"Women and children first!" I shouted over all the voices. "Now, we need to do this in an orderly fashion. Forks, spoons, knives, you're first. Then plates, bowls, and cups."

"Hold on!" protested the saucepan. "What about me?"

"Do you know you're talking to yourself?" My dad's voice brought me back to reality.

"Huh?"

"You're talking to yourself. You're giving the dishes little voices." Color rushed to my cheeks. I hurriedly shoved the last few remaining dishes in and closed the dishwasher with a snap. I hadn't realized I had been speaking. "Hey," my dad said, grabbing my arm to prevent me from leaving, "I'm not scolding you. It's cute." I groaned and tried to pull away.

"I don't want to be _cute,_ Dad. I'm fifteen." He pulled me into a hug.

"Be nice to your old dad. It seems like yesterday that you were five and making your Barbie dolls into spies and your stuffed animals into crime lords."

"And the My Little Ponies where pirates," I said with a laugh.

"And you'd make them ships out of paper and stick them in the bathtub until they sank." There was sadness in my father's eyes that didn't match the crows' feet around them. He'd done his best raising me, but it had been hard since he had to work most of the time, and my mom had died when I was two.

"You're a great dad, you know that?" I kissed his cheek, and then ran off before he realized that I hadn't wiped off the counter.

Oceana arrived soon after, soaking wet and over twenty minutes late.

"Well, at least I didn't forget entirely," were her first words as she walked in. I tried to be angry with her, but it was impossible. No matter how late Cee-Cee showed up, she was still the sister I never had. We left our parents chatting at the foot of the stairs and ran into the kitchen like we did every time she came over.

"So, I see you go away without wiping off the counter - again," Oceana remarked. She pulled flour and sugar out of one cupboard, while I rummaged around for eggs and butter in the fridge. It had become a tradition to make chocolate-chip cookies whenever we hung out.

"I think he's given up," I said, measuring out the ingredients by heart. We had used the recipe so many times, that we didn't even need to look in the cookbook anymore. "So, how's Randy?" I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

"Oh, shut up," she said, throwing an oven mitt at me. "My mom's still here!" She lowered her voice and leaned in. "But if you must know, I think he's going to ask me to that homeschool dance next Saturday."

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

We didn't run out of things to talk about during the whole time we baked the cookies, ate dinner out with my dad, painted our nails, and role-played in my room. Finally, my dad shouted up the stairs for us to start getting ready to go to bed. It was only nine o'clock, but he knew us well. We took at least half an hour just to get into our pajamas and brush our teeth.

I went over to the door of the bathroom and pounded on it with my fist impatiently. "Will you hurry up in there?" I shouted. "How long does it take to change into your pajamas?" The door whooshed open, revealing Oceana in bright green polka-dot pajamas. Her bright red hair was tangled all around her face.

"Um, help?" she said, pulling hopelessly at the mass of snarls.

"How do you even get you hair this knotted?" I asked. I went to work with detangler and a comb, and soon she could see again. "Well," I said, stepping back to admire my handy-work, "you aren't exactly ready for a photo-shoot, but you should be fine for a Sherlock marathon!"

She squealed in excitement. "Is it okay with your dad?"

"He doesn't mind as long as we're quiet. So don't scream during Reichen-" CRACK! A spike of lightning flashed just outside the window. With a little _whoosh_ all the lights went out, leaving us in pitch black.

"Umm… Izabella? I think the power just went out," Oceana said. It was too bad it was so dark, because she missed me rolling my eyes.

"I hadn't noticed. Keep me posted," I said sarcastically.

"Are you two okay?" my dad called up the stairs.

"Well, I'm kinda hungry…" Oceana began.

"We're fine!" I shouted. "You're such a dork, Cee-Cee." She probably made a rude gesture at me, but I couldn't see anything.

"You'll just have to use flashlights tonight, girls," my dad shouted. "Oh, and no raiding the fridge; if you open it, all the cold will get out." We both groaned loudly. "And lights out by midnight!" We groaned again.

A thought struck Oceana, and she pulled out her phone. "Oh, brilliant," she said after checking the screen. "No wi-fi." I handed her a dusty flashlight from the closet and took one myself. "Now we can't watch Sherlock."

"Nope. But you know what we can do…?" I flicked on the flashlight under my chin. "Tell ghost stories!"

"No way. Not in a million years," Cee-Cee said quickly. "You know I hate scary stories."

"Exactly," I said, grinning evilly. I checked the list of dessert we'd been planning to have during the marathon. A problem arose right away. "We can't have ice cream sundaes, ice cream sandwiches, popsicles, pumpkin pie, whipped cream, or raw cookie dough, because they're all in the fridge or freezer." Cee-Cee looked over my shoulder at the list, and a smile stretched slowly across her face.

"I guess we'll have to skip right to the Oreos, then."


	2. Chapter 2

"I. Am. In. Heaven," Oceana crooned, biting into her 15th cookie. We were all settled in for the night. Both of us were wrapped up in our sleeping bags and armed with a flashlight.

"Are you ready to be terrified?" I asked.

"NO."

"Great. Get ready to have your pants scared off." I snuggled into my sleeping bag, collecting up my ideas. I knew everything about Oceana - including her worst fears. This story was definitely going to give her nightmares. Perfect.

"It was a dark and stormy night, much like this one. Two girls were having a sleepover, much like these girls. The power was out, much like –"

"We get that it was much like this night, so get on with it!" Oceana said impatiently.

"Well, look who's dying to hear the scary story now!" Oceana was silent, so I cleared my throat and began again.

"It was a dark and stormy night. During two girls' sleepover, the power went out." I clicked off my flashlight for effect. "Though they were scared of the dark, they finally nodded off to sleep. Little did they know that it wasn't the dark they should have been afraid of, but the creature that was making its way toward them."

"That's enough!" Oceana interrupted. "I'm already scared, so there's no need to finish the story."

"C'mon, Cee-Cee! I'm just getting to the good part."

"Ugh… fine. But lemme go get something quick." She ran downstairs and returned a minute later carrying another package of Oreos.

"Where did you find that?! I hid it in the _dryer_!"

"F-melled 'em," she said through a mouthful of Oreos. I was showered in tiny black crumbs. "Juss geon wif the swory."

"Okay, but no more breaking my flow, Missy," I warned. "So, the monster. He had a huge head that split in two in the middle. The two ends came down to frame its face, and on the end of each was a huge, red eye. It had no nose, but tasted with its eyes."

"EW!"

"Shhhhh! Stop breaking the flow!" I rubbed my eyes, which had begun to droop with drowsiness. "Its favorite food in the whole universe was teenage girls - especially those with red hair." Cee-Cee barely suppressed a scream. "And, oh, you never wanted to see the inside of its mouth. Rows and rows and rows of teeth, ready to grind up food into a million little pieces. And of course, like all good monsters, it had claws. Terrible, sharp claws for cutting things open. The worst part, though, was the middle claw of each hand. The tip of this claw contained a little pocket of venom. Oh, you never wanted to get even a tiny cut from that claw. You would be dead in less than 4 hours." I glanced over to see how Oceana was doing, but all I could see was a tiny little ball at the end of her sleeping bag, quivering slightly. "Um… Cee-Cee? Are you okay?"

"That's quite enough, thanks," she said, voice muffled by the thick cloth of the sleeping bag.

"Oh, please. I haven't gotten to the part where he kills the girls!"

"EEP!"

"Would it make you feel better if I let you name the monster?"

"Maybe. But cookies would make me feel even better."

"You ate them all," I said, shaking the empty package at her.

"Rawr."

"Okay, so what do you want to name it?"

"Hmm…"She crawled out of her sleeping bag just enough to peek her head out. "How about… a Paralich!" She pronounced it like it was a German word.

"I like it. Now you might want to go to the bathroom, because I don't want you wetting the bed when it gets _really_ scary." She stuck her tongue out. "The Paralich had one other weapon that helped him hunt. His breath contained a gas that caused drowsiness and hallucinations. So when he breathed on a victim, they gave up without a struggle."

"Ooh, scary. Bad breath," Cee-Cee said sarcastically.

"IF YOU INTERRUPT MY FLOW ONE MORE TIME I WILL USE THE CRUCIATUS CURSE!"

"Meep." I once again tried to gather my scattered thoughts.

"The specific Paralich in this story was very hungry. He hadn't had fresh meat in two weeks. Usually Paralichs are more careful not to stray into populated areas, but this one was mad with hunger. He had slipped into the house early in the day and found the room that smelled like teenage girls. He hid in the dark reaches of the closet, waiting for his opportunity. When he peered out of the crack in the closet door, he found not one, but two teenage girls - and one even had red hair. It was his lucky day. He waited until they fell asleep and then… he STRUCK!"

"AREIGHAIEVHEDGAIDHGADIFHIE!" screamed Cee-Cee, as I rolled around with laughter. "I'm gonna have nightmares for months, Izzy!"

"That's what friends are for," I replied sweetly, to which she smacked me over the head with a pillow.

"I'm going to bed." She wiggled deep down into her sleeping bag. I was tired too, so I cuddled up to my teddy bear and closed my eyes.

I was peacefully dreaming, when I heard it. A creak. Now, I'm not a scaredy-cat like Cee-Cee; I'm pretty tough, in fact. But for some reason, that one little creak scared the bajeebers out of me.

I slowly sat up, not wanting to wake Cee-Cee. If she found out how scared I was, she'd never let me forget it.

_Creeeeeak. _Oh, God. It was coming from my closet. Where I had said the Paralich hid.

_Just breathe_, I told myself. _It's nothing. Go back to sleep._ I had almost convinced myself to just go back to sleep, when my closet door erupted off its hinges. The splintered wood slammed into my shoulder, sending me spinning into the wall.

"Owwwww…" was all I could manage. Luckily, the explosion had been loud enough to wake up Oceana. (And, trust me, a noise has got to be really, really, REALLY loud to wake up Oceana.)

I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. How hard had I hit my head?

Just then, Cee-Cee screamed. Not a girly scream, or a silly scream, but a blood-curdling help-I'm-being-murdered scream.

I tried to get to my feet, but immediately collapsed. I blinked several times, and finally cleared my vision. Then I wished I hadn't. Because standing in the ruins of my closet door was a Paralich. It matched the story I had told perfectly, from the red eyes down to the terrible, razor-sharp claws.

The monster had one massive hand around Oceana's throat which pinned her to the wall. Cee-Cee's hands scrabbled madly, trying to free herself, but to no avail.

"Hhh… help," she whispered, barely able to make a sound. She was going to die. **She was going to die**, and there was nothing I could do about it.

My bedroom door flew open, and I slumped with relief, thinking that my dad had come to the rescue.

Except it wasn't my dad who ran in. I tried to figure out who it was, but I couldn't focus on his face.

_Bowtie,_ I thought, though I didn't know why. _Bowtie. Bowtie!_

"Let her go!" The man pointed some sort of weapon at the monster. I really hoped it was a bazooka, because the Paralich didn't seem exceptionally destructible.

"Bowtie!" I exclaimed, finally finding my voice.

"Huh?" There was a woman right behind the man, with red hair like Cee-Cee's. She stepped toward me, but at that moment, the Paralich emitted a tremendous roar that stopped her in her tracks.

The beast raked one clawed hand down Oceana's arm, and then threw her to the ground like a sack of potatoes. She lay there, unmoving, her blood soaking into my gray carpet.

"Step away from her," the man said evenly. I now saw what he was holding; it was most definitely not a bazooka. Was he really thinking of taking down a monster whose head was scraping the ceiling with a weird pencil? The man stepped forward and gave the monster a little jab with his pencil. This turned out to be a bad idea.

The Paralich roared in pain and thrashed his arms around. On of his arms caught the man and woman, sending them crashing right through the opposite wall into the hall beyond.

The red eyes of the Paralich roamed around the room, seeming to count the bodies. One on the floor, probably dead. Two through the wall, probably out cold. And one… the scarlet ovals focused on me. _Oh, pickles._

I tried to move, but my shoulder felt like it was being stabbed with red-hot swords. The creature leaned over me, sniffing me with his gross red eyes. The last thing I felt before going unconscious was a slight breeze ripple across my face.


End file.
